One Last Birthday
by Mockingjay500
Summary: After sustaining an injury during a recent mission, Natasha discovers it was not as superficial as she believed. Her days numbered, she finds herself recalling something she said to Tony a long time ago and realises that maybe it is time to start taking her own advice.
1. One Last Birthday

**A/N** Another story based on an idea myself and the lovely Klyntaliah were discussing a few days ago. Huge thank you to her for playing beta for me as well and helping me tidy it up ready for you guys!

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" _I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."_

The words echoed in Natasha's head as she sat alone in her living room that night.

She had been on a mission with Clint a little over a month ago, and she had received a number of what she believed to be minor injuries during a fight with the targets. The cuts themselves had healed over now, but there was one on her left forearm which was taking longer than the others. It seemed just another insignificant cut to her, though it had slowed her down in training over the past couple of weeks due to being situated rather close to her shoulder.

Clint had noticed, as he always did when she was injured, and after she reluctantly showed it to him, he noticed the skin around the border of the wound was somewhat discoloured. He had tried to persuade her to see a doctor, but Natasha had brushed off his concerns.

Ever since the Red Room, the hospital had been a place of nightmares for Natasha. She avoided going at all costs, preferring to patch herself up even if her work wasn't as neat as a professional. So what if she had a few scars here and there? It wasn't like anyone was going to see them anyway.

She had finally accepted that she did need to see someone after the pain from the cut had still not lessened nearly a month later. Now, with their words ringing in her ears, she still wasn't convinced she had made the right call.

The doctor had barely glanced at her injury before ordering all manner of tests. That had been a few days ago, and today she had been called in for the results. It turned out that whatever had caused that particular cut had been laced with poison. If she had not been so stubborn in her resolve to avoid hospitals, perhaps they could have done something. As it was, she had left it too late and the poison had spread too far. It was now only a matter of time.

They'd given her two months, three at best.

Her phone started ringing, and a quick glance at the display confirmed it was Clint calling. Natasha closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself before she swiped to accept the call.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey, how did everything go today?"

Straight to the point as always.

"Fine," she lied.

"Really?"

For a moment, she considered telling him the truth. Keeping something this important from him… she just didn't know if she could do it. But she couldn't bear to say the words out loud, much less deal with Clint's reaction to the news. He was her best friend, her rock. If he crumbled, then there was no hope for her. She couldn't be strong enough for both of them.

"Yes," she forced out, making sure to keep her voice light, in stark contrast to the heaviness in her chest. She heard him breathe a sigh of relief.

"That's great, Tasha." She could hear the smile she knew was on his face as he spoke, and swallowed the lump in her throat. She hated lying to him, but just this once she felt that lying would be easier than telling him the truth.

Two weeks later, Natasha was in Stark Tower with the rest of the team. Tony had thrown a small get-together for no reason other than wanting to have a party, and as the clock ticked past twelve and into the early hours of the next morning, it was just the Avengers left sat around a table. All of them were laughing and joking, and it was as if they had no worries in the world.

Of course, that wasn't true for Natasha. She had been lying to them since she got the news that she was dying, and it pained her to do so. It was especially difficult lying to Clint. He knew her too well, possibly better than she knew herself, and so she had to put on the performance of a lifetime around him, forcing any thoughts of her condition out of her head so her smiles weren't so forced. She glanced at him now, his blue eyes twinkling as he laughed easily at something Sam had said about Steve and Sharon, and she felt her heart jump in her chest.

"So, Romanoff." Natasha started, turning her gaze to look at Tony. "Have you got anything special planned for your birthday?"

"No…" she started, but was immediately cut off by Tony.

"Good. Keep it that way." He grinned, and Natasha rolled her eyes. There was nothing Tony liked more than a party, and apparently her turning 35 meant he actually had a good reason to throw one, as opposed to nights like tonight where he had a party because he just felt like having one.

As she sat there, smiling and laughing in all the right places, she found her thoughts turning to a memory of when she first met Tony, when he believed he was dying. He had asked her then what she would do if she was only going to have one last birthday party.

" _I would do whatever I wanted to do, with whomever I wanted to do it with."_

The answer had come easily to her at the time, but now the question wasn't so hypothetical.

As it turned out, Tony's plans for her birthday included starting the party on her last night of being 34 and extending into the early hours of her first day of being 35. Nick Fury and Maria Hill were in attendance, along with the majority of S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Naturally the whole Avengers team were there, along with the band of girlfriends made up of Jane Foster, Sharon Carter and, of course, Pepper Potts.

Natasha smiled as Pepper greeted her with a hug. The two women had, despite an initial rocky start, become good friends when Natasha was undercover at Stark Industries and, despite the lies she had told as Natalie, they had remained friends. If Natasha had felt guilty when she was lying to Pepper before, it was nothing compared to the way she felt now. Not wanting to let on that anything was wrong, she spent only a few minutes in the other woman's company before excusing herself to get a drink.

More people greeted Natasha as she made her way over to the bar, where she ordered a cocktail.

"Happy birthday." An all too familiar voice spoke behind her, and Natasha felt her heart skip a beat as she turned to face Clint, a smile on her face. He was wearing dark trousers and a flannel shirt, over which he had on his, and Natasha's, favourite leather jacket. He pulled her in for a hug, and as her arms wrapped around him, she found herself wishing she could freeze time and stay in this moment forever. "You look amazing." He smiled as Nat reluctantly pulled away and turned to pick up her drink, just to give herself something to do with her hands. She had elected to wear a black bodycon dress that night, the skirt of which ended just slightly above her knees, with a pair of black stiletto heels. Around her neck she wore her arrow necklace, and on her wrist the look was completed by a simple diamond bracelet, given to her by Clint on her 21st birthday.

"Thanks." She smiled, quirking an eyebrow. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Despite knowing Natasha wasn't really one for being the centre of attention, Tony got everyone counting down the final seconds to midnight, much like they would do at New Year, before bursting into a chorus of Happy Birthday, during which a cake in the shape of the emblem on Natasha's fighting suit was brought in. She had smiled as she blew out the candles, and then slipped upstairs and out onto the balcony as people began to make their way over to the cake to grab a slice.

"Hey."

She turned, shooting a small smile at Clint before looking back out across the city. She was aware of him coming to stand next to her, his arms resting beside hers on the ledge of the balcony.

"What's up?" he asked softly, and Natasha sighed inwardly as she closed her eyes, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat. "Tasha?"

At best she had two months left. Maybe it was time to finally take her own advice.

She opened her eyes, turning to face Clint. He was looking at her in concern, and Natasha felt her heart speed up. For so long she had fought her ever growing feelings for this man she owed everything to. She had buried them deep inside her, scared that she would lose him if he didn't reciprocate her feelings or if things didn't work out between them. She couldn't bear not having him in her life, and so she had settled for being his best friend. Now, at last, she decided to throw caution to the wind.

Her gaze fell to his lips, and then back up to his eyes, and then suddenly she reached out and pulled his head towards hers, meeting his lips with her own.

Immediately she felt him tense, his lips not responding, and Natasha quickly pulled away, removing her hand as she dropped her eyes to the ground.

"Natasha?" She could hear the confusion in Clint's voice, and she closed her eyes. "Tasha, look at me."

She did, forcing herself to keep her emotions in check.

"What… what was that?" Clint asked, and for once Natasha found herself unable to read what he was thinking. She took a breath then, and pushed a smile onto her face.

"I think it was probably the alcohol." She laughed, but Clint's expression didn't change.

"You're not drunk."

Damn how well he knew her.

"Maybe not, but I have been drinking and I've not had that much to eat." She shrugged. "Look, just forget it, ok?" She shot him a forced smile before she turned and started to walk away, wanting to get inside so she could make her excuses and leave.

"What if I don't want to?"

She froze, halfway between Clint and the doors. Her breath hitched, and as she heard him start to walk up behind her she could feel her pulse quicken. His fingers closed around her wrist, his thumb brushing along the inside of it.

"Tasha." His voice was barely above a whisper, and something in it compelled her to turn back to look at him. Their eyes met and she could hardly breathe as he reached up, pushing away a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Then his hand settled on the back of her head, and everything seemed to go in slow motion as Clint dipped his head. She closed her eyes, and suddenly his lips were on hers. His hands were on her, one gently but firmly gripping her hair as the other came to rest between her shoulder blades, holding her to him. Natasha's own hands moved then, her left hand on his shoulder whilst her right moved up to his head, her fingers stroking through his hair.

This was everything she had dreamed it could be, and more. Her only regret now was that she had so little time left.


	2. Epilogue

**A/N** Firstly a big thank you to everyone who read/reviewed/followed/favourited this story. Initially I wasn't planning on writing an epilogue, but I had several requests to do so, so voila! Also a huge thank you to Klyntaliah for going over this as beta again, if you haven't read her stories definitely go and do so!

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The weeks that followed the party passed in an almost blissful blur. Natasha continued working with Clint during the day, and then in the evening they would spend their time alone or with the other Avengers, stealing kisses when they thought no one was watching. Of course it was only a matter of time before they were found out, and the team could not have been happier for them. Natasha was sure she even heard Tony mutter something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "finally".

The only thing that curbed her euphoria was the guilt that was always lingering in the shadows of her mind. She had meant to tell Clint so many times, but she could never form the words. She didn't want to see the look on his face when he found out, and she didn't want to ruin their happiness any sooner than she had to.

As much as she tried to deny it, she knew she was running out of time. She had continued working, determined not to let anyone know about her condition, but she was finding it harder with each passing day. She was losing strength and stamina, and the end of a mission usually found her short of breath. A few people voiced their concerns, but Natasha simply brushed them off, claiming her new relationship had caused her to spend less time training. It was only a white lie, really, and most people seemed to accept it easily enough, usually with some joke about her and her partner.

Of course, Clint was not most people. They had known each other for too long, and she could tell he wasn't fooled by the lies she told. He didn't push her, he never had. They had come to an understanding years ago that they would respect each other's privacy, but that they would be there to talk to if and when the other was ready. So he didn't push her to tell him the truth, but Natasha noticed the way he watched her more closely than normal.

It was almost four weeks since their kiss when Natasha finally told him the truth. An explosion during their latest mission had blasted her backwards where she had hit her back on a wall before hitting the ground. Normally she would have caught her breath and been back on her feet in less than a minute, but her weakened state meant the hit had a much stronger effect on her. She had lain there, gasping for breath, unable to even think about pushing herself to her feet. While the rest of the team continued taking out their opponents, Clint was by her side in moments, concern written in every line of his face as he picked her up and carried her back to the Quinjet and away from the fight.

He waited until they were alone that night before he began to question her. Natasha tried to abate him with the same excuses she had been using for weeks, but Clint didn't even pretend to buy them anymore.

"You've been struggling for weeks, I know something's wrong!"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm telling you I'm fine!"

"Stop lying to me!" Clint demanded, doing his best to not raise his voice despite his frustration. He closed his eyes for a moment, focussing on his breathing to try and calm himself. Then he opened them again, meeting Natasha's eyes and holding her stare. "I made myself a promise a long time ago that I would never try and push you. You've earned the right to your privacy. But something is wrong, and I can't…" He broke off, the words catching in his throat. "I can't carry on pretending that everything is okay. Please, Nat."

Natasha was silent for a long while, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. She knew she owed him the truth. She had owed it to him for a long time now. At best she had a month left; at worst it was only a matter of days. She couldn't keep lying to him.

"You're right," she said at last, her voice quiet. "I haven't been honest with you."

"It's never too late." Clint said softly, and Natasha couldn't help but notice the irony. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, then nodded, her heart already breaking.

"Do you remember that cut I got a few months ago? The one I went to see a doctor about?" She glanced at him, finding him nodding slowly, as if he was already piecing things together. "When you called me to ask how the appointment had gone, I told you it was fine." She swallowed then, knowing her next words would change everything. "I lied. It wasn't fine… they told me there was nothing they could do. Whatever cause the wound was laced with some sort of poison, and by then it was too late for them to do anything. It was too far into my system."

"So you're dying." It wasn't a question, and Natasha winced at the hollow tone of his voice. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, but she nodded. He said nothing for a long while, and the tension in the air was palpable. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how." Her own voice was barely above a whisper.

"You didn't know how?" Clint repeated incredulously. "You didn't know how?!"

"No!" Natasha all but yelled. "How can you tell the one person that matters to you more than anything that you're dying? How can you tell them that you only have a few months left because you were too blind and too stupid to visit the doctor until it was too late?"

"What did you think I'd say?!" Clint retorted. "Did you think I'd be angry at you? Did you think I'd blame you?"

"Yes! Because I do! If I'd only gone to the hospital sooner, maybe they would have been able to do something."

"Your fear of the hospital is not irrational! What those people did to you…" He broke off, disgusted at even the memory of what Natasha had told him all those years ago. "I understand why you put off going as long as you could. What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me!"

"Because I couldn't!" Natasha's voice was breaking now. "I couldn't tell you, because I needed you to be strong. You're my rock. I couldn't cope if you…" She shook her head, out of words, and the emotions she had been fighting to hold back finally overcame her. She sank down on the sofa, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands as her silent sobs wracked her body. The sofa suddenly dipped next to her, and the next thing she knew she was wrapped in Clint's arms. She leaned into him, one hand grasping at his shirt. His head came to rest on top of hers, and she could feel his own body shaking as he held her tight.

The team found out a fortnight later, when Clint finally persuaded Natasha to stop working. He had tried to tell them she just needed a break, but Natasha had told them the truth. Telling him had been the hardest, she admitted. Telling everyone else was easy in comparison. They had all rallied together to support Natasha, and Tony had spent days shut in his lab, occasionally joined by Bruce, attempting to find a cure. Perhaps, if there had been more time, they may have managed, but Natasha had started to deteriorate quickly, and she wished to spend her last days with them, rather than them being holed up trying to do the impossible.

When the time came, Clint was with her to the very end, his hand holding tightly onto hers even as she slipped away.


End file.
